Demons Inside
by Johnswelsh
Summary: John owes Mick. Mick's never slept with a demon before. Should be interesting.


"Ya talk too much." John shrugs off his coat and loosens his tie before kneeling down to unlace his boots and slip them off. They're a pain to get off in a hurry, and there has been more than one occasion his partner has just given up and dealt with it. Somehow, that probably isn't surprising. He strides towards Mick, voice dropping to that low and sultry purr it tends to when such things are afoot.

"Y'know, havin' an incubus in yer bed ain't somethin' most people get to experience. I wouldn't choose jus' anybody." He reaches for Mick's shirt, deftly working at buttons. "Do what's natural, although I basically always sub." That fits him, somehow. He's thin and just seems like the type.

"Now, we gonna chat, 'r fuck?"

Mick blinks, a little bit thrown off. He's just not used to this, different partners usually try to fight him at first, except Jaime, and he and Ethan have been together so long they just do what they want to. Having someone outright agree to sub is...weird. He doesn't expect it.

"Then it better be good enough for me to care," that's reasonable enough. He doesn't care about sex, he's apathetic about it completely. Except for with Ethan, but then it's more about love than anything else.

He lets John start, watching with narrowed brown eyes. And then a hands slips, wondering if demon feels different. His mind wanders to Grendel, actually. He's been possessed for the entity to use him but he's never quite felt Grendel's touch.

Shoes are slipped off, and once his jacket's off he's mostly finishing up himself. "To the bed, then. Make me want to follow you."

So demanding.

John just grins. He unbuttons his shirt and slips it off, then gets the tie off from about his neck. Tattoos and some scars make it obvious he's lived quite the life this far, but he's doing very well. He doesn't look a day over 38, or maybe 40. There's something alluring about him. His movements, his mannerisms, that little grin. A hand drops to his belt, and before long he has that undone as well.

"Ya really do talk too much." He steps right up to Mick, hardly shy at all. his hands wrap around the other man's waist and his little grin only widens as he leans in to plant a kiss on the Welshman's lips.

It's like fireworks going off in his mind. It's like an orgasm before even having sex. It's a flood of passion and sensation Mick has likely not felt for quite some time.

"I good enough fer ya?" He draws back, waiting for his answer.

Ashamed as he would be to admit it, even with Ethan he doesn't feel like this. This is...something he's never really felt, or at least, hasn't in a very long time. His injuries are what kept him from really experiencing anything, and even after he healed it was never the same. Now?

Now he's hungry for it.

John doesn't get an answer, not a verbal one. No, he's far too focused on seeing if his mouth can eat John's, completely unsatisfied with the parting. Now he's starting to get addicted to that feeling he hasn't felt in years. The craving comes and passes, and for a minute he's dazed.

"Yes," answer enough.

There's a low growl from Mick as he nearly pushes John towards the bed, almost like he's not happy he has to stop to move. Which is funny, but he's not all right in the head when he's too busy trying to get addicted to that feeling again. Mick's torso is...well, it's obvious a year and a half has been good to him. Not overweight, not at all, but he's not in shape in the slightest, and he's a bit hairy, but beyond that, he's not too bad to look at.

He's not going slow with John, he's craving something and he's damn when going to get it. Once they arrive against the bed he's already pushing John down, showing just a bit of strength there that isn't very obvious by his build.

Next is his own exploration, and of course, figuring out where to mark. it's his signature, he does it to everyone. Ah, the neck is a good place to start. He's starting to obsess over the taste of skin.

It's a noted fact John loves to be held down like that, and to be pushed around. His whole life, he's never had any real control. Those rare moments he fights back, he knows the same enemies will return sooner rather than later. He knows his place in the grand scheme of things, and so it is gladly he's come to terms with just how much he enjoys this.

At one point, it scratched the itch of confirming his feelings that he was worthless. Now, it just makes him more positive that he's in control. Funny, how those things go.

John is response, but not very loud. He does it in the physical way, encouraging the kisses and welcoming what bruises they might leave. He's got a few bite scars on his neck. Seems he's been attached to more than one vampire in the past.

Vampires just make Mick pissed. He was protective of Ethan even back when they weren't dating, and finding out what that fucking prick did to him only serves to make his hate of the species more cemented. Another low growl once the mark is made, and Mick sits back, eyeing his new partner up and down for a moment before gently caressing a hand around the other's neck. Slow, but it's only to prepare him. The other hand is there to prep, seems like he's getting more enjoyment out of this than he thought.

"Yes?" His head dips towards the hand almost clasped around John's throat. Permission is usually a good thing.

Ah. Mick likes that. Seems he wasn't entirely truthful saying he didn't have many kinks. His lips twitch into that same grin- that same, infuriating grin- and he consents.

"Yes." God, he's addicting. The look of him, the smell of him, that wonderful feeling when he touches his partner. God, that kiss...that kiss is to die for.

His left nudges John's legs, working on prep, while the right clasps slowly, then tighter, and tighter, until he has what he desires. Choking noises are usually what's wanted, he would never do this to Ethan unless he asked, but it's a good way to relieve stress. And it shows trust, which is something Mick deeply values.

He's not too tight, but he goes ahead and speaks. "Tap once to release, twice to stop," the same system with Sebastian.

"This is..." He's mumbling now. His eyes are scanning over John, landing on a patch of scars on the other man's wrist. He's curious, but he wont say anything. Another finger is sliding in. Mick's in for a ride.

John doesn't hide his scars- any of them. Self-harm and suicide, the remnants of an angry lover, a bullet, a stabbing...his skin bears it all like a map, and it suits him well.

The pressure halts his breathing, slowing his oxygen flow and making his pulse rise in an attempt to get it to his body and to his brain. The pleasant, warm buzz this causes is dizzying and addicting. He loves it. He knows how to ride it, too, without pushing to the point he will pass out. The preparation is welcome, and he would have moaned if he were able.

Mick gets what he's after, and when John knows he needs a break, he taps once. He has to breathe. When allowed, there are deep gasps, which only serve to further distort his vision and fill him with that same, pleasant feeling of lightness. He knows how to play this game. He wasn't kidding. He welcomes it again, whenever Mick is ready.

He's obviously experienced, which only helps.

The tightness is kept until prep is done, and Mick moves to get himself inside John. It's what he likes, usually he finishes choking before he moves, but he has a feeling he can do this safely with John.

The pressure is lightened, and Mick adjusts until he's finally deep and situated. He's not forcing it or being rough, not yet at least, but his presence is made and known.

With the first thrust comes a tighter hold on John's throat as one has becomes two, and his thumbs dig against his throat, one of them pressing into the little mark Mick made there. Again, again, now they're getting started.

The initial entry gets a low moan. He can't help it. It's a wonderful sensation, all at once taboo and something he could happily live his life centered around...which he kind of has, actually. For him, it's never about an emotional connection. He doesn't ever use it that way. Sex is recreational, for pleasure, for fun. He would never want to change that.

There- the first, actual thrust. His eyes close momentarily as the sensation rocks over him. Two. Thumbs dig into his throat, and fingers pick out an already sore spot. There. They have a rhythm. John falls into it naturally and moves with Mick like they've done this a dozen times before. He knows how to get people hooked, and how to get them to come back for more. He loves that.

John bites his lower lip, barely quieting a little purr of pleasure. The hand he's not using to signal a need for a stop moves to tousle through Mick's hair. His touch is like flecks of ice, melting quickly and being replaced by a shower of more. Those sensations Mick had been missing are all here, now. Every pleasure, every sensation, every bit of what it's like with no discomfort at all.

That's the sort of thing a man could get addicted to.

Mick knows what he's doing, which helps. He has a lot of experience as a dom, back when John first met him he was still a mess after Erik. Ethan's managed to get him to open up and start being himself, and kept him from getting too timid. Now he's comfortable, and how he feels like he can takeaway power from anyone he desires.

He hasn't felt anything like this in so long. It almost upsets him, he wont even feel like this with Ethan and that thought hurts him drastically.

The feeling is somewhat still confusing, and he really doesn't know how long he can hold off with it. When John touches, his hair, that seems even less likely that he'll be able to keep himself from going off the deep end. A few more thrusts and he's shaking, struggling to keep himself going just a bit more, he doesn't want to lose this just yet. It's been too long.

John can tell he has Mick intoxicated. The squeeze on his throat becomes a bit much, and he taps once again for a break to breathe. His hand moves away from Mick to stop that sensation and let him ride it out at his own pace. He understands. He didn't expect Mick to last long or get too rough. He is enjoying the carnality of it, for sure, and he happily grips the sheets instead. He bites down hard on his lower lip, a wave of pleasure rolling up his spine from the hard, repetitive thrusts. He's getting closer. An unfortunate side-effect of being what he is, however, is that it often takes more to get him off. This explains his affinity for BDSM and extremely...EXTREMELY...rough sex.

Both hands slip off- he needs time to breathe, time to focus. His thrusts are more jagged and he's having a hard time placing himself. Everything is moving at the speed of light and everything is making him spasm more and jerk as the feeling overwhelms him. It's been so long. So...so long...

A loud, angry curse is mutters out in Welsh, and Mick is focused on biting now, teeth grazing that spot under John's jaw and Mick's hands gripping tight around his arm. He has strong hands, and the tightness on skin might end up with more bruises than intended.

Finally, he lets go, body jerking him to the side as he comes, dipping his head against John's shoulder to ride it out. It's not much, not with those injuries of his, but it's something at least, and it's enough for him to release his hold, body jerking a bit as the aftershocks set in.

So. Fucking. Long.

The tight hold, the near-desperation of his partner, and the general atmosphere of this are enough. A few moment after Mick has finally started to slow, he reaches his climax as well. As he does so, Mick is rewarded with aftershocks of pleasure for several moments more. John breathes heavily, glad to be able to do so now.

As his body finally calms down, the craving for a cigarette kicks in. Tacky and cliché, but the only thing he truly wants. He has a feeling Mick is going to be coming back for more. He plants one of those electric kisses on Mick's cheek, in no rush to make the other move or get up.

Mick just stays there for a bit, utterly defeated and exhausted. Mostly from the overwhelming sensation, and he's like a rock on John's chest. But after a while he grunts, slowly lifting himself up to pull out. Usually by now he'd be hopping in the shower, but he's not in his bed with his partner, he's with John Constantine, and he's fucking exhausted.

"Thanks," his gratitude is in the form of a kiss to the forehead, and Mick nearly throws himself down opposite John, hand yanking a pillow out from under him to rest on. He wont move, and he wont care if John does, but he's perfectly content to just rest there for now. He feels too good to worry about it right now.

"Any time." He means that. He rolls over to sit up before slipping to the bathroom to clean up. He then gets dressed, heads to the kitchen, and steals some tea, cookies, and exactly five apples, two bananas, and one egg from the fridge.

With that, he's gone.


End file.
